Friday, July 19, 2013

AESOP ROCK feat. Kimya Dawson – Crows 1

[Kimya Dawson]Birds of a blackBlack feather stick together forever and ever and they always remember youAnd all of the shit you doThey pass it to the baby birdies and then they remember tooLittle baby bluebird’s eyes turn blackWithout forgetting the face of the guy in the maskWhen you see me baby will you scream or will you laugh?Little baby bluebird’s eyes turn black

[Aesop Rock]4 and 20 gory pantone black crows shredding innardsThe silouettes are fencing lefty scissorsSeparating horn and hoof as own arpeggiatorsThey piggy back the tombs of all your deadest friends and neighborsBy the getty image, green-cheese moonDead-of-winter shit, graveyard tchk! tchk!Shifter shit, brother was a face cardCrown like a heart-shaped tunnel of woven branches leaning in over his hydro-plaining pace car chase…Wait up let me isolate the bass moreGate of god’s acreAim to rake the snow off each forsaken name hereSupposedly closure’l free the vipers out the bosomPersonally I think it’s a bunch of bullshitPrisoners, tradition is for loversGod forbid he flip the witch against her coven on some ‘dip or play the dozens‘Now I baptize skips in larvae and dental recordsOn a little plot pregnant with 6 million sentenceendersAnd the tech support for tragedy’s emphatically horrendousTeenage operators explaining what bated breath isPass, I wish it were something I could diagram on a napkin so you won’t feel so detached if it should happen to you privatelyPublicly your shadows’ll cat call backHappy to split the button eye and burlap dollCrack the cryptBats eject like cousin death’s wing-ed Iapdogs ricocheting sonar of the sacrilegeNow let me slow this whole shit down for all you half-goat cowardsI’ll even grit my teeth for youI am so completely off the god-damn grid it’s not a question of addressing me, IT’s “what do these symbols under the dresser mean”Perhaps a little dash of karma chameleons through the entropy for good/youngCould’ve used a good lungStill, proximity to corpses wasn’t nothing to the kid but unforgiving science or cinematic horrorsFast forward, my knee in the gut of a glass“remember that cow in the dean’s seems awkwardAnd I know your people donated pints to the same pavement but for ash and bone to share a space with strangers seems outrageous, ain’t it?Maybe a dialog of howls that reshapes thejowls and face somehow relates to whatever you have found among a thousand cloned shrines, either way – dope stone lion

[Kimya Dawson]And they call to let you know your friend is dead in a boxThe crows have the tools to get the meat out of the boxScientific, ritualistic, headstone cold foxes still rotI’m not gonna rot, no, fuck that snotYou can let them let you rot, manBut I’m not going to watchI’m not gonna stand atop your plotI love you friend, but I’m just notOn the other hand if your ashes are scattered in the seaI will swim in the sea and you’ll be with meAnd if your shit is scattered at the roots of a treeI will climb that tree

[Aesop Rock]Everything you think you’re hiding showsIn the way you view the graves like a string of tiny thronesMessages you’d tucked away for keeps has resurfaced to be heard amidst the butchery and beaksYou don’t want the passengers to passYou want each cow taxidermy’d fatter than the lastMausoleum lighting is a rushWhile it might enhance a silhouette it might expose a crutchA proud chest puffed to the heavensHolds nothing if we’re cutting past the muscle and the tendonAnd we will be cutting past the muscle and the tendon…